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Parsha Perspectives: Shoftim-Generous Judgement

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“You shall set up judges and law enforcement officials for yourself in all your cities that the Lord, your God, is giving you, for your tribes, and they shall judge the people [with] righteous judgment.” (Devorim 16:18)

The beauty of our Torah lies in its ability to convey profound, life-enhancing messages in a nuanced and gentle manner. Moshe instructs us to set up judicial systems in each of our communities. The judges must be just, pious and upright and dedicate themselves to upholding the rule of law. They may not give preferential treatment to one litigant over the other and their conduct both in and out of the court must be beyond reproach. They must overcome their fear of the powerful and not instinctively side with the poor. Their ultimate allegiance is to God, the Torah and the creation and preservation of a just society. The great Chassidic master, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1809) sees an additional, spiritual and interpersonal message in this verse. During this month of Elul, we prepare for the upcoming Days of Judgement, Yimei HaDin. We ask God for mercy and compassion. We ask our Father to look at us through the Divine lens of rachamim (compassion) and not through the prism of din (justice).  How do we “convince” God to make this shift? After all, if we have done something wrong, if we committed a relationship trespass against God, what right do we have to ask for the mercy? If we committed the “crime” are we not deserving of the punishment?

The Rebbe explains that our actions in this world impact and inform the way God acts towards us (the Baal Shem Tov explains that God is like our shadow (Hashem Tzilcha –Psalms 121:5); meaning just as my shadow mimics my every move, so too God’s reaction towards me is a reflection of my actions towards others). Thus, if we want Divine compassion and mercy we must extend those very traits and behaviors towards others. If we want God to give us the benefit of the doubt, we must extend that same courtesy to others. If we want God to bestow blessing upon us, we must go out of our way to bestow upon others. If we want God to help us in difficult times, we must be ready to roll up our sleeves and help another in their time of need.  

This is the meaning of the above mentioned verse. “Shoftim V’Shotrim Titen Lecha B’chol She’arecha, (you shall set up judges and law enforcement officials for yourself in your cities).” We each have the ability to influence Divine judgment through the judgements we make within our own city, within our own world. “V’shaftu Es Ha’am Mishpat Tzedek (you shall judge the people righteously).” If we judge the other with compassion, if we judge the other with mercy, if we give the other the benefit of the doubt, we will bring down Divine compassion from above.

It is during this sacred month that we must prepare ourselves to give an accounting of the past year and to ask for another year in which we can accomplish and be productive. We all need a bit of Divine compassion, rachamim, to help us through this process. We learn from this opening verse that the best way to convince God to take care of us is to take care of one another. If we shower compassion, mercy and love upon one another, if we are a bit less critical of one another, we will be privileged to receive a generous dose of rachamim from our Father above.  

Let us learn this lesson, let us live this lesson and in its merit may we all be inscribed in the Book of Life.

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Parsha Perspectives: Re’eh-Hope and Holiness

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Moshe Rabbeinu spends his final days reviewing and reinforcing the ideas and perspectives necessary to allow the nation of Israel to become a successful, powerful and strong people. He reminds them to avoid the temptations of idolatry and immorality and to remain true to the tenets of our Torah and relationship with God. Moshe also dispensed a healthy dose of chizuk (positive reinforcement).

“For you are a holy people to the Lord, your God, and the Lord has chosen you to be a treasured people for Him, out of all the nations that are upon the earth.” (Devorim 14:2)

God loves us. Not only when we behave or follow His dictates, He loves us all the time. Moshe tells us that failure is inevitable, but he also reminds us that God’s love and commitment to us is constant. God does punish and there are repercussions for our negative or sinful behaviors, but the Divine love is always present (even if at times it cannot be felt). It is this message which gives us the strength to rebuild in the aftermath of communal and national failure. God forgives, and God loves. Why? Because we are the chosen treasure of our Father Above.  

Rashi (Rav Shlomo Yitzchaki 1040-1105) advances a simple yet profound insight:

For you are a holy people: Your holiness stems from your forefathers, and, moreover, “the Lord has chosen you.” – [Sifrei]

Moshe is not simply telling us we are holy, he is explaining that our holiness is innate. Our personal holiness doesn’t only stem from what we do or the choices we make, it is the result of who we are. We are the children of Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivka, Yaakov, Rachel and Leah. We are the descendants of Moshe Rabbeinu and Dovid HaMelech. Holiness is contained in our very life-blood and embedded in our DNA. Moshe Rabbeinu was teaching us that no matter how profoundly we fail or how far we fall, we are still holy. No matter how many times we sin or how many bad choices we make, we are still holy. But how can this be? Haven’t we divested ourselves of our personal holiness? “For you are a holy people, your holiness stems from your forefathers.” There is earned, personal holiness and conferred, national holiness. Earned holiness is the result of our good deeds and positive accomplishments. It is attained through positive actions, but it can be lost through negative or sinful behavior. Conferred holiness is the result of who we are as the Jewish Nation. We are part of a people that is endowed with an irrevocable holiness. Conferred holiness cannot be lost or even compromised. No matter what we do, no matter how badly we mess up, we are still holy. This was the ultimate chizuk and message of hope Moshe was giving to his beloved flock. My dear children, you are holy and will always be holy. Even when you fail, you are holy. Even when you fall, you are holy. It is this holiness that God sees in you and it is this holiness with which create the unbreakable bond of love between your Creator and you.”

This Shabbos marks the beginning of the month of Elul. This last month of the year provides us the opportunity for reflection and introspection. It is during these upcoming days that we ponder our accomplishments and failures of the past year and think about what we want to accomplish and who we want to be in the year to come. All too often we feel overwhelmingly saddened by our failures and shortcomings. At times we feel frustrated as the things we resolved to fix this past year are still in a state of disrepair. It is during this sacred, last month of the year that we must remember we are holy.  No matter how many failures we encounter or how far we may have fallen, we are still holy. We can squander our personal holiness but are always blanketed by our conferred national holiness. Where there is holiness, there is hope and where there is hope, there are untold possibilities.

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Parsha Perspectives: Eikev-Heeding the Heel

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“And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep and perform them, that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers.” (Devorim 7:12)

At first glance, it represents a simple, straightforward theme; if we follow the word of God, He will take care of us. The Torah is replete with verses emphasizing the reciprocal nature of our relationship with God. If we are willing to commit our allegiance to the Torah and Mitzvos, God will see that our needs are met. This idea is at the core of our relationship contract with God: you will get out what you are willing to put in. Yet, the famed commentator, Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki 1040-1105) highlights an additional dimension of meaning:

“And it will be, because you will heed: Heb. עֵקֶב, lit. heel. If you will heed the minor commandments which one [usually] tramples with his heels [i.e., which a person treats as being of minor importance].”

The Torah uses the word eikev which contextually means “if” but can also mean “heel.” As such Rashi understands an additional nuanced message, “If we are vigilant with the details which people normally trample upon, there will be abundant Divine blessing.”  Rashi is teaching us two profound lessons.  

Lesson #1: We all trample on something.  In our spiritual lives we consciously or subconsciously create a religious hierarchy. There are some obligations which we feel are important and other obligations which are not.  There are details which apply to each individual and details which do not. There are mitzvos we each can relate to and others which seem anachronistic, or at odds with our personal life outlook or philosophy. And so, we trample. We adhere, obey and admire the aspects with which we agree and intentionally or unintentionally set aside the aspects with which we don’t. Here is the beautiful reality: God doesn’t ask us to be perfect. He doesn’t expect us to perform all of His commandments and He doesn’t expect proficiency in every area of Judaic practice. All God desires is effort. We create these “mitzvah rankings” as a way of justifying non-performance. But we don’t have to do that. We don’t perform all the mitzvos because we are limited human beings who try hard but can’t always get it right. We recognize that every law and detail in the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) is binding and obligatory but are not always able to live up to this standard. The good news is, it’s ok. God understands. Just don’t trample and make things unimportant to justify our human finitude. In fact, if you look at the wording of the verse it says, “And it will be if you listen (tishmaun) …”, just listen! Yes, the ultimate goal we aspire to is performance (va’asisem) but start just by listening, acknowledging that these are the expectations.

Lesson #2:  Spiritual success doesn’t require spiritual heroism. Little things make all the difference. This is true in many life relationships. In marriage, it is not the birthday or anniversary gifts which shape the fabric of the relationship, it is the phone calls during the day to say, “I love you,” or the small acts of consideration, companionship and love (though the presents certainly help). When our children bring home a project for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day our hearts are filled with joy, even though these creations are objectively junk (please don’t share with my children). Why? Because it is a genuine expression of love. The same is true in our relationship with God. The little things make all the difference. The way we talk to others, the manner in which we conduct our business dealings, our concentration during prayer, our commitment to daily Torah learning, our willingness to give charity, these are the little things which have such a dramatic impact. The Torah and our history are filled with stories of great people making enormous sacrifices for God. But day to day life is filled with the opportunities to do small things for God. These are the “eikev” moments. The little things that at first glance seem so insignificant that you can just step on them with your heel, yet, these are the very things which determine our spiritual identity and relationship with God. If you are grumpy in the morning and push yourself to greet people with a smile, the sea will not split before you, but you have done something amazing. If you see someone in need and manage to step out of yourself and help them, God will not call out your name from the heavens, but you have furthered your relationship with Him. If you are exhausted after a long day of work but manage to carve out some time to learn Torah, you won’t see the lightning and hear the thunder of Sinaitic revelation, but you have shown your Father how truly committed you are.  

We must find the strength to stop trampling and start building with the small bricks of “eikev” accomplishment. God promises that He is waiting for us and ready to reciprocate our efforts. May we find the courage the first small step and feel the blessing of His love in the journey ahead.

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Shabbos Nachamu: Continuous Consolation

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As I write these words, the tears of Tisha B’Av are not yet dry. We spent this past Motzai Shabbos and Sunday mourning two thousand years of collective loss. We mourned the 2,500,000 Jews murdered during the destruction of the second Temple, the 6,000,000 who perished in the Holocaust, every man, woman and child we have lost throughout the years. But then something amazing occurs – we find comfort. This Shabbos is called, Shabbos Nachamu (the Shabbos of consolation). This name is taken from the opening words of the Haftorah, ‘Nachamu Nachamu Ami, (be consoled, be consoled my nation),’ uttered by the prophet, Isaiah. We transition from profound mourning to a feeling of comforting consolation in just a matter of days. Yet, we must ask, what has changed? Has the final redemption occurred? Have the fundamental challenges of suffering and difficulty been alleviated? Where is the nechama (consolation) of Shabbos Nachamu?

Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik zt’l (1903-1993) explains this dynamic in a profound way. After two thousand years of suffering and constant challenges one would have assumed that the Jewish people would have ceased to exist. After enduring the crusades, pogroms, the Holocaust, wars and terror attacks one would have assumed that even if we managed to survive, our will to forge forward as a nation would have simply disappeared. But herein lies the awesome nature of the Jewish people: despite so much tragedy and adversity, we are still here. And we do not simply exist. We thrive. Every time our enemies knock us down and try to trample our soul, we get back up and answer their derisive taunts and barbaric brutality with unbreakable resolve. On Tisha B’Av we cry because we are truly broken-hearted over what has been lost. On Tisha B’Av when reflecting on the scope of our personal and national tragedies, we don’t know how we can go on. On Shabbos Nachamu we rejoice because we have.  

The first time we see the word necham” (consolation) in the Torah is at the end of Bereishis (Genesis) after man had experienced a spiritual and moral decline and God contemplated the destruction of mankind. “And the Lord regretted (va’yinachem) that He had made man upon the earth, and He became grieved in His heart.” (Genesis 6:6) Rashi explains that the word va’yinachem means “nehepcha machshavto” God experienced “a change of heart.”  

God had high hopes, dreams and aspirations for man. But then, va’yinachem, God has a change of heart, a change of perspective. God still loves man, man is still the crown jewel of creation, but God must adjust his perspective and expectations.  He must accept the frailties of His creations. God must accept man’s failures and shortcomings. God still knows what man can be, but He must accept that man will often not actualize that potential.

Thus, explains the Rav, nechama does not mean consolation; it means to experience a change in perspective.  There are circumstances both national and personal that we would give anything to change, but we can’t. There are tragic realities which we cannot change no matter how hard we try. There are challenges that seem so overwhelming that we fear we will be swallowed up and enveloped by them. We do not get to choose our life circumstances, but we do have the great privilege to choose our life perspective. We can do things to find meaning and fulfillment even in compromised circumstances. When we encounter difficulty, we begin to realize that it is not the end of the road, there will be a tomorrow; we can make it. We can give up in the face of adversity or  find the strength to move forward and accomplish. We can let the tzaros conquer us or find a way to conquer them. This is nechama. True nechama is not a result of everything being wonderful and perfect. This is not the reality of the human condition. True nechama is the result of a paradigm shift. In the midst of our pain, we thought we could not go on, but we did. True nechama occurs when we realize that the sun will rise no matter how dark the night before was. True nechama is actualized when we realize that we have the tools to rebuild no matter the scale and scope of the damage and destruction. True nechama is experienced when we realize that we can get up, dust ourselves off and continue to do great things.

This is Shabbos Nachamu. What has changed since Tisha B’Av? We have. We have gone from feeling helpless, despondent and broken to realizing that although life is far from perfect, we control our reactions and spiritual dispositions. We are not victims.  We are the masters of our destinies. We have suffered much and may still suffer more, but we choose to see ourselves as a individuals with much to accomplish. We can live meaningful lives, contribute to our people, and sanctify the name of God through our actions. We create the nechama of Shabbos Nachamu.

We hope and pray that we will experience the true nechama of complete redemption speedily in our days. But until that great day, we will continue to find personal and national nechama through maintaining positive perspective in all that life brings our way.

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Shabbos Chazon: The Greatest Mitzvah

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The Torah is filled with many beautiful and meaningful mitzvos (commandments).  These mitzvos teach us how to create and sustain a relationship with God and with one another. Imagine for a moment if you were asked, “Which is the most important of all of God’s commandments? Which mitzvah do you think outweighs the rest?” Perhaps, it is Shabbos or Bris Milah (circumcision) both of which are referred to as an os (sign) between God and His nation.  Perhaps, it is not any one mitzvah but a unit of mitzvos like the Aseres HaDibros (Ten Commandments) that are the spiritual centerpiece of our Torah. In fact, the great sage, Rav Saadiah Gaon explains that all 613 mitzvos are derivatives of the Ten Commandments. Long before you and I pondered this question, the great rabbinic sages of yesteryear were conducting this very discussion.

You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself (Leviticus 19:18); Rabbi Akiva said, “This is an important principle of the Torah.”  Ben Azai said, “This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him” (Genesis 5:1), is even more important (Sifra, Kedoshim).

Rabbi Akiva and his disciple, Ben Azai, were trying to figure out what is the most important, core principle we have in our Torah. Rabbi Akiva explains that everything comes from loving the other. This is reminiscent of the story of the gentile who approached the great sage Hillel and said, “I want to convert on the condition that you (Hillel) teach me the entire Torah standing on one foot.” To which Hillel responded, “That which is despicable to you, do not visit upon the other.”  Rabbi Akiva continues this tradition and explains that the mitzvah of V’Ahavta l’reyacha kamocha (Love your fellow as you love yourself) is the most important tenet of our belief. If you can’t love another how can you love God? If you can’t love someone who you can see, touch and experience, how can you love that which is amorphous and beyond the scope of human comprehension? .  

Yet, Ben Azai, Rabbi Akiba’s trusted disciple, disagreed with his rebbe (teacher). At first glance,Ben Azai’s statement is difficult to understand as there is no actual mitzvah contained in the verse he quotes. This verse, from the fifth chapter of Bereishis (Genesis), begins a listing of the life-spans of the generations beginning with Adam. What is the nature of Ben Azai’s disagreement with Rabbi Akiva? Rav Asher Weiss advances a beautiful insight. Ben Azai says, “My great teacher, Rabbi Akiva if only we could be as pure as you. It would be wonderful to think that we could love each other as we love ourselves. But this aspiration is fraught with so many problems. There are people who have wronged me, and it is difficult for me to forgive, let alone love them. There are people who do bad things and who is to say they deserve my love. There are simply not “loveable” because of their temperament and disposition. And therefore, I would like to suggest something else. There is something more basic and important than love – respect. We can’t love every other Jew, but we can learn to respect them. “This is the narrative of the generations of man on the day that God created man, in the likeness of God He created him (Genesis 5:1).”  Every Jew (it is true for all humanity, but let’s first focus on loving each other), is made in the image of God and for that alone (s)he deserves my respect. To require us to love one another is a tall order, but to respect each other; this is attainable.”  

Such a powerful lesson. Perhaps, it isn’t possible to love everyone – but I must work on my ability to respect the other.  There is a societal trend to vilify anyone who does not share “my” views. This is true on an individual and national level.  Even the most open minded of people often lack tolerance for opinions and views that may differ from their own. We are each entitled to our personal religious, social and political views but we must learn to respect even those who don’t share them. We can disagree and argue our positions vociferously and passionately, bur always with respect and dignity for the other.  

This Motzai Shabbos and Sunday, we will observe the fast of the 9th of Av. It is on this day, thousands of years ago, that our beloved Beis HaMikdash (Temple) was set ablaze. So much of the hardship, so many of the heartbreaking difficulties were the result of infighting, factionalism and indifference to the other. We can do better, we can be better. We don’t have to agree – we just must respect.

What is the most important mitzvah of the Torah? I’m not sure – much greater men have pondered this question and the answer still seems far from reach. But here is what I do know. The path forward must be lined with love for our fellow Jew. And before we can love we must learn to respect. We need not compromise our beliefs and values we hold dear to make someone else feel happy, accepted or validated. But we must respect the other no matter how deep the divide or disagreement. Why?  “…for in the likeness of God, He created him;” we are each a beautiful Tzelem Elokim (image of God). May we be privileged to see this Divine identity within ourselves and may we be courageous enough to see it within one another.

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New Beginnings, Ancient Problems – Reflections on Rosh Chodesh Av

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Rosh Chodesh, the beginning of a new Hebrew month brings with it promise, potential and joy. There is nothing more beautiful than a new beginning, an opportunity to start again, to rejuvenate and regenerate. But today, the beginning of this new month, the month of Av is different. As the Talmud states:

“Mi’shenichnas Av, Mi’maatin B’Simcha, (When the month of Av enters we diminish our joy).” (Mishna, Tractate Taanis 26a)

This Rosh Chodesh ushers in 9 days of mourning and sadness. We refrain from various activities including the consumption of meat and wine (except on Shabbos). Our hearts are filled with the pain of thousands of years of collective sorrow. The Mishna recounts the various events that make this month one of sadness and pain. The mergalim (spies) returned from the Land of Israel on the 9th of Av and delivered their disastrous report; the city of Beitar, the seat of the Bar Kochba rebellion was crushed by the Romans and its inhabitants slaughtered; and many other unfortunate and tragic events unfolded during this auspicious month. However, the central event on which we focus is the destruction of the Temple (Bais HaMikdash). Each and every year we face the same challenge. How do we mourn for something we have never known? We have existed without a Bais HaMikdash for over 2,000 years and although deep in our soul we know that something is missing, it is difficult for us to feel a true and real void. It is difficult to shed a tear for something for which we have no frame of reference. It is challenging for us to relate to that which we do not know. So how can we connect? How do we appreciate the loss of the Temple and make it relevant?

I want to share with you an idea which I have discussed many times in the past but has timely relevance during these important days. In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers, Chapter 5 Mishnah 5), we are told about ten miracles that occurred in the Temple. The 8th miracle listed is, “Omdim tzefufim, u’mishtachavim revachim, (the people stood crowded together, yet prostrated themselves in ample space).” When our ancestors came to the Temple on the Regalim (Pesach, Shavuos, and Succos) and Yom Kippur, the Bais HaMikdash was packed from corner to corner. In fact, Jerusalem was teeming with people from the cities of Israel and beyond. The courtyard of the Temple was so crowded that people literally stood shoulder to shoulder. However, when they bowed in prayer there was room for everyone to have personal space. An amazing miracle, clearly in defiance of natural law. But why the need for such a miracle? What was the message?  

Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040-1105) explains that when the people would bow in prayer each person would ask for his/her personal needs. If individuals were in earshot of one another, the supplicant would feel self-conscious about articulating his needs. Furthermore, on Yom Kippur when people would bow in order to confess their sins, if the penitent felt he could be overheard by his neighbor, he may be hesitant to confess. Therefore, to allow each person to have a personal dialogue with the Divine, God performed this miracle.  

Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859) offers an additional insight. The Rebbe explains that this Mishna is not simply relaying a miraculous event, but is also conveying an important life lesson. Omdim (standing) – if a person always stands his ground and is never willing to yield to another, the result is, Tzefufim (crowded) – the world is very crowded and constricted, there is no room for the other. However, if a person is Mishtachavim (prostrating) and willing to yield to another, then Revachim (ample space), there is room for everyone. The secret to successful life relationships is knowing when to stand your ground and when to yield. There are things in life that we must fight for and there are many more things for which conflict is not the answer. There are times when we must be an Omed on certain issues and accept the negative repercussions, and there are times when we must be a Mishtachaveh and learn the art of yielding to the other for the sake of peace and harmony. We must learn the delicate balance of knowing when to use each of these powerful traits.  

The Bais HaMikdash was the address for the entire Jewish community. There were not different temples for different hashkafos (religious philosophies), there were not different temples for different levels of observance. There was one Bais HaMikdash for the Jewish nation. There was one address where we had to learn how to come together in brotherly harmony and serve our God with one heart and one soul. There was one place where we were required to come and learn the art of bowing to one another, yielding to one another, respecting one another.  

In the Bais HaMikdash, Jews of all stripes and colors would gather to worship together. We mourn the absence of this unifying place. We don’t mourn the loss of a building, as buildings can always be rebuilt. We mourn the loss of an ideal. When the Bais HaMikdash stood, it was clear that the will of God was for us to unite. The Bais HaMikdash, through its mere existence reminded us that to remain a nation we can’t argue over every single issue. There are issues that are so delicate and important that we must vociferously disagree and yes, draw our line in the sand. But I would venture to say that for many other issues, we must find the strength to yield. We mourn the unifying absence of our beloved Bais HaMikdash.  

It is difficult to cry and mourn for that which we do not know. But if we can’t cry – we must at least yearn. We must yearn for a time in which we can embrace our differences and coexist as a cohesive nation.  

Truth be told, we must do more than yearn – we must do. We must learn to bow, learn to yield, learn to make the hard sacrifices in order to achieve true shalom with one another. Before getting into an argument with another, before saying something that may be hurtful, before doing something that may be “correct” but may not be “right” we should ask ourselves: is it really worth it? There are times in life when we may be truly in the right, but this doesn’t mean a battle should be waged. It is difficult to strike the balance between being a principled and peaceful person. The Bais HaMikdash helped us to achieve this equilibrium, now we must do it on our own.  

Today is Rosh Chodesh, but it is unlike all other monthly new beginnings. We feel a sadness, we feel a heaviness as we continue to mourn over what has been lost. But as we observe our mourning practices and reflect on our national and personal tragedies and set-backs, let us resolve to do our part in bringing shalom into our personal, communal and national lives. There are times to be rigid, but there are many more opportunities for understanding, compassion and flexibility. In the merit of bowing before one another, may we be privileged to bow together before God in a rebuilt Jerusalem – bimheyra b’yameynu, amen.

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Parsha Perspectives Pinchas 5778: Creating the Clouds

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“Moses spoke to the Lord, saying: ‘Let the Lord, the God of spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation, who will go forth before them and come before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord will not be like sheep without a shepherd.’ The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you shall present him before Elazar the Kohen and before the entire congregation, and you shall command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed.’” (Bamidbar 27: 15-20)

Over the course of the last few Parshios, Moshe had experienced the passing of his sister, Miriam and his brother Aharon, and had accepted the reality that he would not enter Israel. As a devoted leader, Moshe beseeched God to appoint an able shepherd to lead, look after and love the flock. Moshe would not lead them into the Promised Land, but he did all he could to ensure they would be cared for.

But with the passing of Miriam, Aharon and ultimately Moshe, the Jewish nation fundamentally changed. An era would come to an end and a new chapter was to be written. On a purely practical, day to day level, it was the merit of these holy individuals which actively sustained the nation.  

“Rabbi Yossi the son of Rabbi Yehuda said:  The Jewish people had three good leaders (providers); Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. In the merit of these three leaders, three gifts were given to the Jewish people; the well, the cloud and the manna. The well was in the merit of Miriam, the cloud in the merit of Aharon and the manna in the merit of Moshe.” (Taanis 9a)

Each gift was uniquely related to the individual personality. Miriam was a matriarchal figure for the Jewish people. She showered them with love, concern and care. Water represents chessed (kindness) and therefore the miraculous well was given to us in her merit. Moshe gave the people spiritual life by bringing down and then teaching the Torah. Just as he gave them spiritual nourishment, in his merit they were physically nourished with heavenly bread. But what is the connection between Aharon and the clouds? Why was it in Aharon’s merit that this Divine protection was provided?

The great Chassidic master Rav Yisroel of Ruzhin (1796-1850) provides a beautiful insight. In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers) the great sage Hillel tells us, “Be of the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them closer to Torah.” Aharon’s entire life mission was to create bonds of brotherhood and friendship between man and his fellow. He took it upon himself to settle disputes, help with relationship dynamics and attempt to restore equilibrium to the familial structure. “Aharon was a pursuer of shalom (peace) and made every attempt to amplify the feelings of shalom throughout the nation. It was through his influence that people came to truly love one another. From the breath (of the kind and loving words they said to one another) that emanated from their mouths, the clouds of Glory were created.” The clouds weren’t simply given to us; they were a result of the kind words, compassionate actions and loving care that we exhibited towards one another. We must exhale to speak. It was the breath created through kind and harmonious speech which created the clouds. This is the meaning of the Gemara. In the merit of Aharon’s life-work of creating shalom, love, respect and harmony, we, the Jewish people engaged in the type of speech and behavior that created the clouds.

We can create clouds even when we don’t travel together as one camp. We can create Ananei HaKavod (clouds of glory) through our actions. By going out of our way for one another, performing acts of chessed for the other and refining our interpersonal behavior we create magnificent, majestic clouds that can shield our people. The Talmud explains that the clouds served three purposes: to protect us from the elements, to protect us from our enemies and to level mountains and other obstacles which stood in our way. When we blanket ourselves in shalom, we are shielded from our enemies. When we blanket ourselves in the performance of chessed we need not worry about the elements. When we are united as a people, no mountain stands in our way.

We lost our beautiful and holy Bais HaMikdash (Temple) because of internal strife, hatred and animosity. During these weeks when we mourn all that we have lost, we must bolster the clouds. Each and every day, we must do something to contribute to building and sustaining shalom in Klal Yisroel. We must work harder on our relationships. We must strive to do something meaningful for another at least once a day. We must learn how to

interact with dignity and respect to our fellow Jews who may not share our personal beliefs or practices. We must be careful and appropriate regarding how we speak to and about our gentile neighbors of all races and colors. We must make sure that our Shuls are not only holy places of learning and prayer, but also bastions of chessed (kindness). We must try to avoid infighting and machlokes and when we do clash, to figure ways to make shalom and restore peace. We yearn for redemption and salvation, yet we forget that we hasten this process with a kind word to someone whom we may not know, a “gut Shabbos” to a visitor in Shul, a phone call to someone who is struggling, or reaching out to someone who may not be socially connected.  

We must remember that we need each other because it is only together that we can create the clouds. Let us hope that our words and actions over the coming days and weeks will forge, cement and bolster our magnificent and eternal Ananei HaKavod. May these beautiful clouds, shelter and protect us until the coming of Moshiach.

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Balak 5778: Hearing the Message

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We are often called the People of the Book, but perhaps we would be better described as the People of Miracles. It is difficult to comprehend how after thousands of years of persecution and barbaric treatment we are still here. Not only do we exist, but we continue to grow and thrive in both spiritual and material ways.  Throughout our history, God has provided us with national and personal miracles. These miracles have sustained and inspired us in times of joy and distress. Miracles usually fall into two categories: There are utilitarian miracles, performed to remedy an immediate, necessary need e.g. the splitting of the sea, manna in the desert etc. Then there are teaching miracles which occur to impart to us a lesson or shape our ideology e.g. jug of oil which lasted 8 days.

 

In this week’s Parsha we find a most peculiar miracle. After seeing the downfall of the two powerful Canaanite kings, Sichon and Og, Balak the King of Moav, realized that he could not defeat the Jewish nation through conventional means. Balak hatched a new plan. He dispatched messengers to the great gentile prophet, Bilaam with a simple request, “curse the Jewish people.” As Bilaam traveled to the Jewish camp with the messengers of Balak, the Torah records an amazing episode. God dispatched an angel to stop Bilaam from carrying out this doomed mission, but Bilaam did not see the angelic emissary. However, Bilaam’s donkey did, and as a result the donkey veered off the road and wandered into a nearby field. Bilaam, angered by this display of disobedience, struck the donkey. The Torah relates:  

“God opened the mouth of the donkey, and she said to Bilaam: ‘What have I done to you, that you have hit me these three times?’ Bilaam said to the donkey: ‘Because you have ridiculed me; would that I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you now.’ The donkey replied to Bilaam, ‘Am I not the very same donkey that you have been riding on all your life until this very day? Was it ever my habit to do this to you?’ And he said: ‘No.’ God then enabled Bilaam to see, and he observed the angel of God standing in the way with his sword drawn in his hand. He bowed his head and prostrated himself on his face.” (Bamidbar Chapter 22:28-31)

This miraculous event begs a simple question. Why was this miracle necessary? What was the message being conveyed in this miraculous and supernatural event?

Rabbeinu Bachya (Spain, 1255-1340) explains: God performed this wondrous act, changed the regular laws of nature and allowed the animal to speak to teach us that even the animal understood that this mission was not appropriate and would not result in success.

In other words, the donkey was able to see what Bilaam was not. Already in the beginning of the Parsha when Bilaam was first approached by the messengers of Balak to curse the Jewish nation, Bilaam inquired of God as to whether he should go. God responded, “You shall not go with them! You shall not curse the people because they are blessed.” (Bamidbar 22:12) God made it clear from the beginning that if Bilaam’s intent was to curse the Jewish people, he would not succeed. The people are blessed.  But Bilaam was so intent on cursing them (either out of hatred or more likely because of the wealth and fame it would bring him) that he ignored the Divine warning and convinced himself he would succeed. He managed to convince himself to such a degree that he became oblivious to the signs unfolding all around him. His first attempted “curse” resulted in beautiful blessing. Then, his trusted donkey suddenly veered off course. There was an angel on the road with an outstretched sword. Sign after sign, yet Bilaam ignored each one. Numerous signs of Divine displeasure so obvious and clear that even the donkey understood what Bilaam did not.

It is here, in the midst of this story, that the Torah teaches us such a profound and crucial lesson. There are times in life when we are so desperate to believe that something is true. There are times when we feel compelled to perpetuate a particular reality. There are times when we have so much invested in our personality and life-style that even when we realize the need for change, we are reticent to do so. Instead we ignore certain realities and signs in order to sustain the life and identity we have created. Like the addict who refuses to see how his habit is destroying his life, we are often unable to see the realities of our life for what they are. We refuse to confront our demons and challenges. We prefer to live in a state of cognitive dissonance in which we create an alternate reality for ourselves whereour faults don’t exist, our weaknesses are ignored and our problems remain unsolved.

Herein lies the true tragedy of the Bilaam story. God tried to prevent him from making this terrible mistake (that would later cost him his life). God spoke with him, sent messages and messengers, but Bilaam was too wrapped up in his contrived reality to see or heed what was really happening. God sends the signs but can’t force us to see and internalize them.   

We each put incredible amounts of time, effort and resources into constructing ourselves and our lives. As we continue on the journey of life, it is important to periodically take a step back to examine the lives we lead and the people we have become to make sure that we are travelling in the right direction. We should not keep living or acting a certain way by rote. If we possess negative traits or if our life hashkafos (values) are skewed or incorrect, we must find the strength to rethink and potentially restart. We must find the courage that Bilaam lacked and open our eyes, see the signs, modify, adjust and if need be – start again.

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Chukas 5778: Red and Righteous

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The entire congregation of the children of Israel arrived at the desert of Zin in the first month, and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there… The whole congregation saw that Aaron had expired, and the entire house of Israel wept for Aaron for thirty days (Bamidbar 20:1,29)

It was the close of a generation. We read of the passing of Miriam and Aharon, the sister and brother of Moshe Rabbeinu and in many respects the partner leaders of the Jewish nation. In addition to this necessary piece of historical information, Rashi explains that the passing of Miriam contains an important message: Why is the passage relating Miriam’s death juxtaposed with the passage of the Red Cow? To teach you that just as sacrifices bring atonement, so the death of the righteous secure atonement (Bamidbar 20:1).

In the preceding section, the Torah discusses the laws of the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer). This was a unique sacrificial procedure to purify one who had contracted ritual impurity through contact with a corpse. From Rashi’s perspective, Biblical juxtapositions are never random, and as such the Torah is linking the purification achieved from the ashes of the Red Heifer to the purification received through the death of Miriam.  

Rav Kalonymos Kalmish Shapira, the Rebbe of Piacezna in his sefer Aish Kodesh asks a simple question. The Torah is teaching us that the death of a great person atones for the generation in the same way in which korbanos (sacrifices) atone for the owner. Why does the Torah choose to teach us this law through Parah Adumah? Why not teach us this law from other offerings? The book of Vayikra is filled with sacrificial law, why not bring out this idea in the third book of the Torah? Why is this derived specifically from Parah Adumah?

The Rebbe provides an incredible insight. In discussing the symbolism of the Red Cow, Rashi comments: A red cow: This can be compared to the son of a maidservant who soiled the king’s palace. They said, “Let his mother come and clean up the mess.” Similarly, let the cow come and atone for the calf (Bamidbar 19:22).

The Parah Adumah is a form of atonement for the Golden Calf. It is the mother coming and cleaning up the mess made by her child. The Red Heifer is taking responsibility for its young Golden Calf. This was Miriam.  Miriam, possessed a love for all “her children” even though they were not her own biological family. Miriam’s heart was filled with compassion, empathy, care and concern for every member of the Jewish nation. This is the nature of the juxtaposition. The same way the Red Cow comes to atone for the sin of its young calf, Miriam spent her years toiling, helping and building her people. This is the deeper meaning of the concept, “the death of the righteous atones.” When Miriam passed away, people felt the void, there was less love and devotion. They took it upon themselves to fill that void and in this way, her death provided atonement.  

There are many important lessons to be learned. It is easy to love our family, our friends and our immediate community with whom you identify. But that is not greatness. Greatness is found in those who have an open heart for the entire Jewish nation, not just the ones who are like us. Greatness is found in those who possess the wellsprings of compassion and empathy. Greatness is found in those who think beyond themselves, those who choose to be like Miriam.  

There are times when we think about the leaders of yesteryear. We reflect on their greatness and selflessness and feel sad that our world no longer has their light. Where there is a void, we have the ability to step in, roll up our sleeves and continue their holy work. The death of tzaddikim (righteous people) atones, for their memory inspires us to become great and illuminate the world with our deeds and actions.  

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Korach 5778: Never Finished

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“Korach the son of Izhar, the son of Kehath, the son of Levi took [himself to one side] along with Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Eliab, and On the son of Peleth, descendants of Reuben. They confronted Moses together with two hundred and fifty men from the children of Israel, chieftains of the congregation, representatives of the assembly, men of repute. They assembled against Moses and Aaron, and said to them, ’You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation are all holy, and the Lord is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?’” (Bamidbar 16:1-3)

It was a no holds barred rebellion. Korach accused Moshe of nepotism, power grabbing and self-promotion. Moshe tried as hard as he could to make peace and achieve reconciliation, but it was not to be. Korach’s core argument was encapsulated in one phrase, “Ki kol ha’eyda kulam kedoshim (the entire assembly is holy).” Korach was saying to Moshe, we are all equals. You are no holier than the rest of us and as such have no right to take and assign leadership positions to whomever you chose; we are all on equal footing.

But how could Korach say such a thing? Moshe regularly communicated with God, Moshe spent forty days and nights on Mount Sinai with no food or drink. Aharon the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) could enter the Holy of Holies, offer sacrifices and reside within the Mishkan. How could Korach say there was no difference between these great men and the rest of the populace?  

The great Chassidic master, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov offers an incredible insight. The Talmud explains that when the Jewish nation experienced Sinaitic revelation and actively experienced God, “paska zuhamasan (the impurity ceased).” The moment that Adam and Chava ate from the forbidden fruit, they ingested spiritual impurity. That impurity remained embedded within our nation until we received the Torah. When we made the incredible declaration of “Naaseh V’nishma (we will do and we will listen),” when we heard the voice of God give us the first commandments, the impurity of the first sin was purged and we regained our complete, innate holiness. Korach therefore felt that we were all equal. Each of us has been restored to the state of Adam and Chava before the sin. We are a nation of holy and righteous people. Moshe, was greater before the revelation, but now, Korach felt, we were all equals.

What was Korach’s mistake? Just because we achieved a certain level of holiness doesn’t mean we automatically retain it. The retention of holiness is achieved only through consistent and ongoing active dynamic growth coupled with vigilance against sin and harmful forces. Korach felt that he “made it.” He crossed the spiritual finish line and there was nothing else he needed to do. Once one becomes a card-carrying member of the holiness club, he can sit back, relax and enjoy the show. But Korach was wrong. Even after the Jewish people achieved this saintly level, we had to actively work to maintain it. Unfortunately, we didn’t.  Immediately after we received the Torah, we built the Golden Calf. Shortly thereafter, we complained about the manna from heaven. Just a bit later, we experienced the debacle of the spies. We lost our footing. We lost our spiritual standing. But Moshe didn’t. Moshe retained his holiness, built upon it and continued forward in a trajectory of growth.

We all have moments of incredible accomplishment. We experience moments of spiritual elation and holiness. There are times when we accomplish great things, cross our finish lines and engage of acts of spiritual heroism (big and small). But in the world of spirituality, there is never a point when one can say, “I have arrived and I am now finished.” We take the time to recognize and celebrate our accomplishments but immediately consider how to move forward. If we don’t build on the spiritual accomplishments of our past and present, we will lose the spiritual ground we have covered. If we don’t actively work to maintain, retain and increase our individual holiness, it will unfortunately dissipate.

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